I open the bathroom door.Eve’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her work clothes.She’s staring at nothing, her hands folded in her lap, and there’s something so vulnerable about this picture that my chest tightens.
She looks up when I emerge, and her expression shifts.Concern replaces whatever she was feeling before.
“Your turn,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.She nods and stands, moving past me toward the bathroom.Her fingers brush my arm as she passes, just briefly, and I feel that touch all the way to my bones.
The bathroom door closes.I hear the shower start, and I sit down on the bed where she was just sitting.The spot is still warm.I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head.
The shower runs.I hear the water change pitch as she moves under the spray.I imagine her in there, washing away the night, and I have to close my eyes against the sudden fierce wave of protectiveness that crashes over me.
Minutes pass.The water shuts off.I hear the soft sounds of her moving around in there, and I force myself to breathe normally.The bathroom door opens.Eve steps out in just her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel, her face scrubbed clean of makeup.She looks effortless like this.Beautiful.
Does she have any idea how beautiful she is?
Her eyes find mine, and I see her frown.“Your hair’s not dry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Caleb.”She walks toward me, reaching up to unwrap the towel from her hair.“You’ll catch a cold.”
She shakes her damp hair out, then pauses.“Let me dry my hair first, then I’ll help you.”Before I can protest, she disappears back into the bathroom.I hear the hairdryer start, a low hum that fills the silence.I sit there on the bed, my mind still racing.
Then the hairdryer cuts off.A moment later, she emerges again, her hair dry now and falling in soft waves around her shoulders.She’s wearing my oversized T-shirt, holding a fresh, dry towel.She walks toward me without a word, and my legs part automatically, making space for her to step between them.Reaching up with the towel, she gently rubs it through my hair, and I close my eyes.My hands find her hips.It’s instinct.Muscle memory from a relationship that isn’t even real.
Except it feels real.God, it feels so real right now.
The towel is soft against my scalp, her movements careful and methodical.She’s taking care of me, and something about that simple act makes my throat tight.This moment feels raw.Stripped bare.Both of us standing here without our usual defenses, without the walls we usually keep up.Just her hands in my hair and the quiet between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”I ask, my voice rough.
Her hands pause for just a second before continuing.“I’m more concerned about you.”
“I know I scared you tonight.The way I went after Luis?—”
“You didn’t scare me.”
I open my eyes.She’s looking at my hair, concentrating on drying it thoroughly, her jaw set in that determined way she has.
“Eve.”
“You didn’t,” she says firmly.“I wasn’t scared of you.I was scaredforyou.”
“For me?”
She sets the towel aside and starts combing her fingers through my hair, working out the tangles with surprising gentleness.“At the police station, I felt completely useless.”Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact, but I hear the frustration beneath it.The admission costs her something.“I didn’t know who to call, or what to do, or how to help,” she continues.“I just stood there in that horrible fluorescent lighting while they processed your paperwork.”
She stops, her fingers still moving through my hair, and I understand what she’s not saying.Eve, who plans for everything, who’s always three steps ahead, had been powerless.And for someone like her, that’s worse than any physical threat.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer, resting my chin on her chest so I can look up at her.Her hands are motionless in my hair, and her eyes finally meet mine.
“You stayed,” I say firmly.“That was enough.You don’t always have to do something extraordinary.You don’t always have to have all the answers.”I see the doubt flickering in her expression.“I was happy to see you when I walked out of that station,” I tell her.“That’s all I wanted.Just you, waiting for me.That meant everything.”
She sighs, her fingers resuming their gentle movement through my hair.“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No.”I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me.“I wouldn’t lie to you.Not about this.”It’s the truth.Whatever else this thing between us is, whatever it’s become, I wouldn’t lie to her.
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, wants to deflect, but I don’t give her the chance.I pull her down and kiss her slowly, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my lips against hers.She melts into me immediately, her hands cupping my face, her fingers sliding into my damp hair.The kiss is soft and deep and achingly tender, and I feel something crack open in my chest.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.I rest my forehead against hers, my hands spanning her waist.“Come on,” I murmur.“Let’s get some sleep.”
